


Concussions and Revelations

by shnuffeluv



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Card [4]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Concussions, Gen, Papa Bear Jethro Gibbs, Self-Esteem Issues, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 10:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16195361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/shnuffeluv
Summary: Inspired by a drabble by ami_ven and spurred on by a Bad Things Happen Bingo square, Nick goes to Gibbs' house for a concussion check.





	Concussions and Revelations

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Concussion Protocol](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14766137) by [ami_ven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven). 



Nick woke up in the dim light of twilight, confused about where he was, and why he was awake. The first half of his question was answered when he remembered he was at Gibbs' for that stupid concussion check. The second half of his question was answered shortly afterward when he shot out of bed and to the bathroom before violently throwing up in the toilet. He was left kneeling and shaking on the bathroom tile, nausea ebbing and flowing like waves if he dared move his head. There were soft footsteps approaching the bathroom and Nick braced himself for the "I told you so" from Gibbs.

When Gibbs didn't immediately say anything, Nick turned to look at him only for the nausea to worsen and force him to turn back to the toilet to cough up bile.

"That's a concussion, all right," Gibbs said from the doorway.

Nick coughed and groaned, cradling his head. It was throbbing, and it hurt to even think.

"Need some Tylenol?" Gibbs offered.

"I don't need painkillers," Nick grumbled.

"So your head doesn't hurt?" Gibbs asked.

Nick growled. "That's not what I said."

"So you'll take the painkillers?"

"No. My head hurts but I'll be fine," Nick growled, forcing himself to stand and flush the toilet.

Gibbs looked like he wanted to argue, but there was a knock at the door downstairs. Gibbs rolled his eyes and left the room, walking down the stairs, and Nick followed. "He's claiming to be fine, McGee," Gibbs said by way of greeting when he opened the door.

"He threw up, didn't he?" McGee asked, looking around Gibbs to find Nick standing on the stairs. "Did you throw up? You look a little green."

"You're enjoying this too much," Nick grumbled, and McGee just grinned at him in response. "Why are you even here?"

"Audio books," McGee said, holding up a bag filled with CDs. "Can't read or watch movies with a concussion, so if you get too bored to function, you can at least listen to something."

Oh. That was actually...sort of thoughtful. But Nick wouldn't want to listen to science fiction or fantasy stories. "Thanks, man, but I don't really read the same kind of books you do..."

"Thought of that, actually," McGee said. "A quick call to your sister told me the kind of audio books to look for at secondhand bookstores. Cost me, like, ten bucks total. We've got things like  _Fight Club_ ,  _Good Omens_ , and...uh... _Deep Six_."

Nick felt his cheeks heat up at that last one. "Thrillers are sometimes fun to read, okay?"

"Not judging, Nick. They're fun to write. I should know, I published a couple," McGee laughed.

"Really? Which ones?" Nick asked, willing to humor this for approximately one minute.

"The ones that I got in audio book form for you. Didn't realize you were such a fan, I could sign a copy if you still have the book itself?" McGee offered.

Nick blinked. Looked at Gibbs, who simply nodded and said, "Yup, he actually did that."

Unfortunately, Nick was only able to laugh for a few seconds before the throbbing in his head became unbearable. "Man," he managed through the pain, "You must have had some serious death wish to write that sort of stuff. Like, I just thought that the characters' names were similar, but if you actually _based_  that on people..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I  _know_. I've heard it all before," McGee said, tossing the bag towards Nick. "I was trying to be nice, you idiot."

Nick grinned and caught the bag, shaking his head subtly. This was hilarious, but his head was killing him, and he felt like sleeping a considerably long time before he even considered getting up and listening to CDs. "Listen. I'm probably gonna pass out upstairs, but if you want to talk about this more, we can do that when my head feels less like it was attacked by a sledgehammer," he said.

McGee rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Oh, and stop trying to be a macho guy and take the Tylenol, will you? It's not exceptionally strong but it'll help at least a little."

Nick blinked. "No."

McGee shared a knowing look with Gibbs and said, "Fine. I'm here to keep Gibbs company so he doesn't pass out before he can wake you up every hour to make sure you're not slipping into a coma. But if we get too loud, and your head hurts, take the Tylenol."

"No," Nick said, heading back upstairs to Gibbs' guest room. His head was throbbing and as he closed his eyes, he hoped that he wouldn't have to wake up at all tonight.

Of course, he had no such luck, and it felt like only seconds before Gibbs was gently shaking his shoulder. Nick groaned and cracked his eyes open, finding Gibbs standing over him. "What," he said flatly.

"Concussion check, remember?" Gibbs asked.

Nick groaned into his pillow before sitting up. "What do I need to do to prove I'm okay?"

"I'm just making sure that your symptoms aren't getting worse, it's not a matter of fine or not, not after you threw up," Gibbs said. "That means you're not fine."

Nick grumbled and let himself fall back onto the bed. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Head's not hurting worse?" Gibbs asked.

"Nope," Nick said.

"Then far be it from me to stop you," Gibbs said.

Nick closed his eyes and it felt like only another minute before Gibbs woke him up again. Thus continued most of the night, Nick being rudely awoken by Gibbs every hour on the hour, and Nick felt like he was getting no sleep at all. At some point around the early morning, Gibbs left Nick to sleep, and the next time Nick woke up, sunlight was already streaming through the window.

Confused, Nick shuffled out of the room and down the stairs, to find McGee reading a newspaper in the living room. "Morning, Nick," McGee said blandly.

"Where's Gibbs?" Nick asked.

"Shopping run. Your twelve hours were up, and you were still out cold, so Gibbs figured he could go out to get stuff for breakfast," McGee explained.

"Huh," Nick said, looking around. "What do you mean, my twelve hours were up?"

"Well you only have to check for worsening symptoms and sleep for twelve hours after the hit," McGee explained. "Gibbs is cruel, not sadistic. You needed your sleep so he let you rest."

Nick shook his head subtly. "How long has he been gone?"

"Long enough that you won't get very far if you try to leave before he's back," McGee said with a faint smile. "Trust me, I tried it once, Gibbs threw me over his shoulder and  _carried_  me from the bus stop back here. And I'm not light by anyone's standards."

Nick snorted, the image of Gibbs carrying a struggling McGee over his shoulder hilarious. But, he paused. "Why would Gibbs go through all that effort for me?" he asked. "I'm just...me."

"Believe it or not, Nick, Gibbs cares about you," McGee said, looking up. "We all do. None of us want to see you slip into a coma from a concussion."

Nick hummed in thought. "Sounds fake, but okay. I won't protest it while my head feels like it's been put through a blender."

"It's a start," McGee deadpanned.


End file.
